His eyes sparkled. "I would spank you." He bent until his lips were near her ear. "But in a very pleasurable way."

Bronwyn's heart leapt at the low-spoken threat. I can't believe he's saying such things to me. Even more, I can't believe I'm letting him. But some part of her, a part she'd never known even existed, thrilled at the naughtiness of it. For one mad moment, she wanted him to do something "pleasurable." In fact, she could think of several pleasurable things she would like from him right now- I must stop this. Such thinking will only lead me down a very dangerous path. She knew there would be a price to pay, for actions always followed thoughts. She pulled back a little and forced herself to appear disinterested. "I suppose all princes are flirtatious."

"I can only speak for myself, but I am not usually so, nyet. Tonight I am flirtatious with you, and no one else."

He said the words as if conferring a great gift upon her. "I suppose I should be honored. For tonight, anyway." Oddly enough, she was honored . . . a little. And fl.u.s.tered . . . and still breathlessly happy, which worried her.

His smile warmed her. "I only know this, Roza: I am glad to find you, and I wish to kiss you more. But this time, I think it will be a different kiss from the ones we shared in the woods."

There are different types of kisses? Her chest tightened and her skin p.r.i.c.kled in antic.i.p.ation. "Oh?"

Alexsey laughed softly, soaking in the mixture of excitement and wonder that shone in her expression. She is so lovely, so open, every emotion clear in her eyes. The obvious excitement in her eyes spurred his own. "Our first kisses were gentle, new." Alexsey bent closer, the scent of her hair engulfing him in lilac and sunshine. "This time, I will kiss you without mercy. I will kiss you over and over and over, until you beg for more than mere kisses."

Her eyes widened and her lips parted, pure, naked desire in her dark eyes.

His body tightened instantly, his heart thrumming in an odd sort of recognition, as if his body, primed by her nearness, recognized hers.

Wanted hers.

Needed hers.

But as quickly as desire had flashed across her face, her lashes dropped and she banished every vestige of longing. With a faint look of regret, her jaw firmed and her face set with a new determination.

As he watched the play of emotion, disappointment settled on his shoulders. So quick to deny your own desires. Why is that? She was as p.r.i.c.kly as the flower he'd named her after. He wondered why he found her so appealing, what trait of hers pulled him closer. But one glance at the plump curve of her lips and the apple-round silk of her cheek, and he only knew that he wanted to taste this lush maiden and stir her sensuality awake. Just a single touch would free it; he could see it in her eyes.

His gaze swept over her to where her bosom filled her gown in a delightful manner. He'd wager his favorite summer palace that her b.r.e.a.s.t.s would fill his hands like ripe fruit, soft and succulent.

His mouth watered and he wished they were alone, where he could explore such intriguing possibilities. She'd looked different when they'd been in the secluded woods-had been different, softer and more approachable. Her hair had been loose and her gown muddied, and-after he'd kissed her-she'd had a dreamy expression on her face. Now she was primped and starched, her expression as cautious as her clothing. Ballrooms do not become you, Bronwyn.

It would take some effort to loosen the bindings she'd wrapped about herself. "Tell me what sort of kisses you like best: slow ones that make your skin heat, or quick, urgent ones that make you ache for more, or-"

"Stop." She glanced around as if to make certain no one could hear, her cheeks flushed an attractive pink. "This conversation is not acceptable for a lady, and you know it."

"I do not like this word, 'acceptable.' " He wasn't overly fond of "lady," either, now that he thought about it.

"Well, I do like that word. And if you don't stop teasing me in such a way, I'll ask to be returned to my family."

He sighed. "So prim. This I do not like."

Her gaze darkened. "I'm not fond of it, myself, but it's how things must be."

"Why?"

She blinked. "Why? Surely you can imagine the horrible complications that could occur if we continue to-" She glanced over one shoulder and then the other, before she bent closer and whispered, "Push the boundaries of acceptable behavior."

He had to laugh. "I don't think you need to whisper that."

"Perhaps not, but we would both do well to behave with more propriety. You may not have a care about your reputation, but I care about mine. If I were to cause a scandal, my sisters could be harmed by it."

Alexsey found himself looking over Bronwyn's head to where Tata Natasha stood with Sir Henry. They were no longer deep in conversation. Instead, she was watching him dance with Bronwyn, a frown on her face. The heavy gold necklace that held the kaltso glimmered in the candlelight.

He returned his gaze to Bronwyn. "Sadly, there are people who will judge one based upon a reputation."

"It is unfair, but it is the way of the world. Therefore, it is better for us to put our past nonsense behind us, and remain acquaintances."

"What does that mean?"

"There will be no more kisses."

"Nyet."

She frowned. "I didn't ask. I'm telling you."

"I agree we should be more circ.u.mspect when in public. But in private? That is an entirely different matter."

"Someone might catch us."

"No one caught us in the woods," he pointed out. "We must find more time in the woods."

"We were merely lucky. The next time, we wouldn't be."

"Then we would set a watch of some sort, bribe the servants to-"

"Nyet. No. Not in a million years."

Alexsey wasn't used to such direct speaking, and he sure as h.e.l.l wasn't used to being told nyet in such a bald way. He, a prince of Oxenburg, a huntsman without compare, the future savyet lidir of the Romany (or so he'd be once Tata Natasha was through trying to make a point), was being put in his place by a Scottish la.s.s who enjoyed books more than his kisses. "You are making this most difficult."

"I'm making this simple."

Irritated, he snapped out, "Is this a trick, a way to make me want you more?"

She quirked an eyebrow in such an adorably threatening way that it made him yearn to kiss a smile back onto her plump lips.

He shook his head ruefully. "I will take that as a no. Ah, Roza. Why could you not have been a housemaid as I'd thought?"

"Why couldn't you have been a huntsman as I thought?" she returned, regret heavy in her tone. "You and I are from two different worlds."

"Nonsense. We have much in common. We both like books, dogs, poems, Sir Walter Scott, dogs-I could go on."

"You listed dogs twice."

"It does not matter; I still made my point."

"No, you haven't. That's everything you know about me, a paltry four things. It's not enough. Besides, whether we have something in common doesn't change one very major item-you're a prince. Everything you do is monitored, watched, scrutinized." She glanced around them. "People are watching us even now."

"I ignore them."

She looked unimpressed. "And that keeps them from gossiping?"

Well, no. Nothing stopped that. But admitting that wouldn't help his cause, so he shrugged. "People always talk."

"Not about me. If we pursued those kisses, someone would see us and then there would be a scandal." Her clear gaze met his. "A scandal my sisters and I would have to live with after you left."

A scandal would also make Tata Natasha hold even more tightly to his kaltso. He scowled. He'd thought Bronwyn's pragmatic streak charming until now. Now it irritated him, because he had to admit she was right.

As he met her gaze, he caught a hint of genuine regret in her eyes. He tightened his grip on her hands, pulling her closer. "I will not give up on us."

"I will." Her smile trembled only the faintest bit. "Now, let's talk about the weather like everyone else must be doing. That will be much safer."

But he didn't want safe. There was something about her that made him even more restless. A flicker of l.u.s.t that grew stronger as the minutes pa.s.sed. She was part wide-eyed wood nymph, part awkward society miss, and-he was beginning to realize-part testy library elf. "I will not waste precious time talking about the weather when we've so little time togeth-"

"Your Highness!" Lady Malvinea's voice cut through the music.

Bronwyn instantly stepped away from him. Alexsey's hands curled into fists.

Bronwyn's stepmother smiled, Miss Sorcha peering from behind, looking both embarra.s.sed and excited. Alexsey bit back a curse, but inclined his head as was polite. "Lady Malvinea. Miss Sorcha."

Lady Malvinea favored him with a cringe-inducing smile. "Your Highness, I trust you can still walk after dancing with Bronwyn."

"Yes, but only because I wear very good shoes."

Bronwyn sent him a flat look. "You were warned."

Lady Malvinea gave a too-loud laugh. "You were indeed warned, Your Highness. Bronwyn, I believe Mairi is speaking with an acquaintance of yours sitting with the other chaperones. She said something about a recipe you were promised, but I didn't catch it all."

"Of course." Bronwyn sketched a curtsy. "Your Highness, thank you for the dance."

"It was my pleasure," he said gravely, hoping she could hear the deeper meaning in his tone. He started to add that he hoped to see her again, but she was gone before he could form the words, heading toward the chaperones like a compa.s.s needle finding north.

Lady Malvinea pulled Miss Sorcha forward. "I believe Your Highness has bespoken this dance with my daughter?"

Alexsey stifled his irritation. If his Roza believed he was finished pursuing her, she was wrong. We will be alone again soon. I will make certain of it. And I will find a way to keep the world's eyes from us, a way that will soothe that overcareful side of you.

He would have to be very, very cautious, but she was worth it.

In the meantime, it was to his advantage to keep himself in her family's good graces. Aware of Lady Malvinea's approving gaze, Alexsey took Sorcha's hand and bowed over it, smiling. "Shall we?"

"I would be honored, Your Highness."

He led Miss Sorcha into the swirl of dancers, Lady Malvinea's beaming smile following.

There are times, gentle reader, when even love needs a little nudge. . . .

-The Black Duke by Miss Mary Edgeworth Alexsey swung out of the saddle of his black gelding and handed the reins to a waiting groomsman.

"Welcome back, Yer Highness. Oy trust ye found yer ride to yer likin'?"

"It was invigorating." Alexsey rubbed his horse's neck. "Viktor and I enjoyed the path around the loch very much. This land of yours is beautiful at all hours, but especially in the morning mist."

The groom beamed. "Och, 'tis an auld land, Yer Highness. G.o.d took his time makin' her, and did it proper."

Alexsey patted Viktor's damp neck. "That He did. Viktor was especially impressed with the waterfalls. We have many such in Oxenburg and they reminded us of home."

The gelding wickered, cold puffs blowing from his nose as he nudged Alexsey's pocket.

"You look for your reward, do you?" Alexsey pulled an apple from his pocket and fed it to the horse, before turning to the groom. "I walked him the last length home, so he has cooled down."

"Aye, Yer Highness. Oy'll see to it tha' he's watered, bathed, brushed, and combed."

"Thank you." Alexsey slipped a coin into the groom's waiting hand and watched as Viktor was led away.

Normally, after a late night at a ball, Alexsey would have still been abed. But somehow, he'd awakened with the dawn from a dream where he'd been dancing with a brown-eyed vixen with tumbled hair, sparkling eyes, and a wit as sweetly sharp as lemon candy. So Bronwyn, you are invading my dreams now, are you?

He shouldn't be surprised. After their dance last night, he'd thought of nothing but her, the feel of her in his arms, the flash of humor in her eyes, the way her lips pursed when she was considering something he'd said-her expressions were as changing as the sea, and he was thirsty to understand each and every one.

She tantalized him. Even this morning, while riding around the blue loch, the water kissing the gray stone sh.o.r.es, he'd imagined her riding with him, her eyes the same rich brown as the patches of peat nestled between the mountain ridges. It had been a long time since any woman had teased him so.

Alexsey walked toward the gate leading from the stable yard to the castle path, the gravel crunching under his boots. The sun was just now burning off the edges of the mist and slowly climbing the sides of the mountains that surrounded Tulloch. As the day brightened, the white morning revealed the green, brown, and purple glory of the Scottish countryside. Such beauty, and yet it carries such strength, too.

The sound of a horse approaching made him pause as he reached the gate. Out of the low roiling mist, Strathmoor appeared, riding a large bay. He waved to Alexsey before pulling up and dismounting. The viscount handed his reins to a waiting groom, speaking briefly to the man before striding down the path to join Alexsey.

Strathmoor looked Alexsey up and down. "Must you dress like a groom?"

"I wear what is comfortable. It is one of the few benefits of being a prince; I can be as out of fashion as I wish and yet society will not shun me."

"It would shun me if I wore such clothes." Strath shook his head. "I'm surprised to see you this early."

"This morning, I surprised myself."

Strath unlatched the gate and held it open. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Nyet. A dream." A very good dream.

"Too much lamb." The viscount closed the gate and then fell into step beside Alexsey. "I told my uncle he shouldn't serve it every meal, for it is bad for the digestion, but he never listens to me."

"Was it your digestion that awoke you this morning?"

Strath smiled. "No, a whim awoke me. A very vivid whim."

"Is this whim blond? Or brunette?"

"She's . . ." He trailed off, his smile fading as he squinted toward the path that curled around the back of the castle.

Alexsey followed Strath's gaze just in time to see a cloaked woman disappear through the gate in a high stone wall. "Who was that?"

"For a moment, I thought . . ." Strathmoor shook his head. "It couldn't have been."

"Couldn't have been who?"